Absolution
by Kerrison
Summary: Post-ep for "Aliyah" - Ziva's all alone and at the mercy of her captors... until fate lets her make the call to the only people she can trust. ***Now complete**
1. Chapter 1

There were long periods of time that were completely blank; not even a hint of a memory.

The beatings she tried to block out, but somehow they were the things that kept sneaking back into her consciousness.

She remembered being tossed over one of the guard's shoulders as they walked off the ship and into the town's local hotel. She remembered the stagnant air as they flung her onto the hotel's bed, ensured her bonds were secure, and left for the closest bar.

She remembered the sound of the housekeeper knocking on the door several times before entering and she remembered the woman's shocked face as she moved to undo Ziva's restraints.

Ziva remembered shaking her head at the woman, knowing that as tempting as escape was, there was no way she'd get away without help.

She knew, feeling the bile rise in her throat at the knowledge, that her father had sent her off on a suicide mission. She knew Mossad was no longer safe. And she knew that she had let her pride separate her from the one family who had protected her above all else.

The maid had reached into her apron pocket and pulled out a cell phone, flipping it open and helping Ziva dial. She had held the phone to Ziva's ear.

Ziva had prayed fiercely that she didn't end up in Gibbs' voicemail. And she had felt a small piece of her spirituality slide more firmly into place when she heard his voice give its usual terse greeting: "Yeah. Gibbs."

She had spoken quickly and efficiently with what little voice she was able to dredge up. "I'm in Mogadishu at the Athens hotel. I need help," she said quickly and hoping her voice was audible through the no-doubt staticy international line.

"Ziva?" Gibbs had questioned, frowning at her words. "Ziva, what's going on?"

She had opened her mouth and tried to speak but the violent beatings of the last week had taken their toll and she had no voice left.

The maid had taken pity on her and pulled the phone to her own ear and provided Gibbs with the hotel's address as well as, what Ziva assumed was the woman's personal cell phone number. Ziva watched as the woman listened to Gibbs' instructions, her vision swimming before her as her energy finally waned.

She felt the phone's cool plastic rest against her ear as she tried desperately to stay conscious and she heard Gibbs' reassuring tone across the line: "We're comin', Ziver. Hold on. We'll get you outta there. Just hold on."

She felt the maid's touch gentle against her cheek and she realized the woman was wiping away a tear Ziva hadn't even known she had shed. She heard the phone click shut and, despite the presence of the brave soul in the room with her, she felt incredibly alone.


	2. Chapter 2

**AN: Thank you so much to those of you who have been kind enough to leave a review! I appreciate the feedback - it truly does make a difference. I hope you continue to review and continue to read & enjoy! - Kerrison**

**

* * *

  
**

Gibbs voice had echoed in the bull pen as he shot up from behind his desk.

His coffee cup went flying, leaving a brown puddle seeping into the bullpen carpet.

McGee felt his eyes shoot wide open and his attention turned quickly from his computer to his boss.

Tony slowly stood from behind his own desk, feeling his fingers in his hurt arm clench as Gibbs barked out Ziva's name, his boss's voice thick with fear and worry- two sounds Tony very rarely heard from Gibbs.

"Boss," he heard himself speak softly, getting a firm 'shuttup' gesture from Gibbs as the silver-haired agent cocked his head trying to hear across the poor connection.

"I need you to get the hell out of that room. If they find you when they get back, they'll kill you both. Get out but keep an eye on her. If they move her, you call me right back. Do you understand?" Gibbs ordered, his no-nonsense tone firmly in place. "I'll have her out of there in a few hours. Can you put her back on?" He paused, grabbing his gun from his drawer and shoving it into its holster with one hand while the other held the phone firmly to his ear. "We're comin', Ziver. Hold on. We'll get you outta there. Just hold on."

Gibbs flipped the phone closed and gave the screen a quick glance before he turned to his two agents. "Grab your gear."

"Where we going, Boss?" McGee had the strength to ask.

"We're going to get our girl back," Gibbs replied, holding the elevator door as Tony and McGee scrambled to catch up, their backpacks in hand.

* * *

"You're sure about this, Boss?" McGee questioned gently, his stomach threatening to rebel as the puddle jumper hit a small patch of turbulence. He didn't know if he was eager to hop onto the small speed boat that would take them into port, or if the sea sickness was worse than the air sickness.

"I'm sure," Gibbs said simply, nodding.

It was one of the only flights Tony could say that Gibbs hadn't slept the whole time.

His boss's body radiated tension and worry, two traits that neither Tony nor McGee was used to seeing in their leader. And that fact unnerved Tony almost as much as what he had learned was happening to Ziva.

"So this guy you called, he'll get her?"

"He's already got her, DiNozzo," Gibbs said, his voice confident and clear. "He's had plenty of time."

"He's a good guy?"

Gibbs gave Tony a tolerant glance which conveyed the unspoken '_Of course.'_

"Did she sound ok?"

Gibbs closed his eyes, knowing this wasn't the time to lose his temper. "She sounded like she had the shit beat out of her, Tony," he replied evenly. "But if she wasn't ok when VanTright got there, we'd know by now; he'd have radioed us."

The silence in the cabin was overwhelming and it was a miracle Gibbs had heard Tony's voice at all when he next spoke.

"Boss, what do I say?" he had whispered, his lonely and scared eyes pleading with his mentor for some guidance.

Gibbs let a small smile of understanding slip onto his lips. "Say whatever you need to say, Tony. I'm sure there's things she needs to know."

The younger agent closed his eyes in frustration and rested his head back against the mesh net of the puddle jumper's seating. He spent the remainder of the flight going over everything he needed to say to her in his mind... and often found himself worrying that she might not be alive to hear it all.


	3. Chapter 3

She remembered the sound of the door slamming open and the sound of guns being cocked.

And she remembered thinking that with just one shot, someone could blessedly release her from the torment that her captors had inflicted daily.

And Ziva remembered the feeling of strange disappointment as she felt gentle hands scoop her off the filthy floor, careful of her wounds. No release today. She'd be forced to slowly heal, and slowly be punished all over again.

She remembered barely being able to mutter his name and she remembered mentally kicking herself for having cried out for Tony instead of Gibbs.

The man's voice was low and kind and she remembered his promise that she'd see Gibbs soon. And one look into his kind but war-worn eyes and she felt as if the man would gladly die before allow her captors anywhere near her again. Her body had relaxed and she had succumbed to the darkness that had plagued her for weeks, causing her to lose large chunks of time.

* * *

The entire boat ride over, he had reverted back to his childhood habit of chewing his lower lip when he was very nervous.

The small boat had rocked enough to cause McGee to lose a year's worth of lunches over the edge of the boat-- yet Tony hadn't been able to spare so much as a glance at his Probie, never mind torment the agent as he normally would have.

Gibbs had shown his nerves, perhaps accidentally, when he actually denied the offer of a cup of coffee by one of the shipmen.

Tony had realized then, that he wasn't alone in his fear.

The stony and confident facade that followed Gibbs on every mission had barely cracked – but cracked none the less. And that one small crack offered Tony more reassurance than his boss's confidence ever would.

The boat jarred across the top of a whitecap and Tony registered a groan from McGee. He saw the dock in the distance and, with a sympathetic voice, he offered his friend a gentle pat on the shoulder. "Almost there, Probie. Puke now while you can; we've gotta hit the docks running."


	4. Chapter 4

She didn't know if it was the cool water that caused her to stir, or the low din of voices that she knew so well. But as she felt herself move slowly out of the fog of unconciousness, Ziva realized there was a fierce sting that came with cleansing an infected wound.

A faint hiss came from her lips and she instinctively turned her head away from the rag that was so gently tending to her.

"Sorry," he said softly and she opened her one good eye, trying to reassure herself that the voice did, in fact, belong to Tony.

She watched him as he rinsed the blood-tinged washcloth in a basin on the nightstand and watched as he moved, carefully back towards her face, washrag still in hand.

"This looks pretty infected," he said softly. "We can get you a medic tomorrow, but today I'm going to have to do."

She managed a small nod, observing him closely. She noted that he had shed his sling, though he still moved his injured arm very stiffly.

Ziva shifted her gaze beyond him and out the door of the small bedroom. She made out the familiar form of Gibbs standing in the doorway shaking hands with a very large gentleman. As she strained her ears, she picked up the man's voice and recognized it as the voice of her rescuer.

She made out bits of their conversation, her eye misting up as she heard Gibbs' words: "She's family, Andrew. I'll never be able to repay you for getting her out of there."

"My pleasure, Gibbs," the man had said simply before turning and heading out of the small room, flanked by five or six similarly clad and muscular figures.

Ziva blinked away the tears that had threatened to sneak out of her eye. She looked around the room again and found McGee's form hunched over a nearby table, laptop on the table and his fingers working furiously at the keys. She couldn't make out what he was working on, but she was comforted by the presence of all of them.

Even Tony, she was surprised to realize.

She slipped her hand slowly towards his knee to get his attention.

"Yeah?" he asked softly, lifting an eyebrow.

"Stop?" she was able to croak out. "Hurts."

She watched the disappointment slip over his features but it was quickly replaced with his look of understanding.

Tony nodded and replaced the rag in the basin and stood. "You should get some more rest. Tomorrow'll be a busy day."

She moved quickly as he stood, trying to reach for him again to get his attention, as she knew she didn't have enough voice to make him pause.

He watched as her fingers fell short of touching his pant leg and Tony made sure he made eye contact, letting her know she had his attention.

Ziva opened her mouth to speak, but it took a few seconds before she was able to make even the softest noise. She croaked out: "Later?"

She saw him nod and she watched as a small piece of rejection slipped from his face.

"Get some sleep."

Ziva nodded as much as she was able and shifted her weight ever so slightly to take the pressure off her bruised hip.

Just as the darkness of sleep tickled her senses, she felt Gibb's gaze settle on her and she knew that she could, finally, sleep peacefully.


	5. Chapter 5

She felt the weight on the side of her bed shift and it stirred her from the depths of the first peaceful sleep she had in weeks.

She blinked her eye open, startled to find gentle blue eyes looking back at her with fatherly concern.

"Hold still," Gibbs said, simply, as he tenderly wiped the fluid that had seeped from her eye wound.

She shifted away from the stinging sensation on her face, but took a deep breath to still her nerves before finally holding still long enough for Gibbs to finish tending her wounds.

He rinsed the cloth in the fresh water in the basin nightstand and she took the opportunity to scan the room.

Tony had made a makeshift pallet on the floor of the room, not far from her bedside. His head was pillowed on his backpack, his jacket thrown over his shoulders in an impromptu blanket.

Gibbs must have seen her curious gaze. "He won't let you out of his sight."

"He's a fool," she managed to whisper.

"A fool who loves you very much," Gibbs replied firmly as he dabbed some antibiotic cream on the deep cut on her cheek. "I had to threaten to kick him out of here if he wouldn't take five minutes to eat this afternoon."

She raised her brow at him, confused.

"McGee ran out and brought back lunch. He managed to find a smoothie shop up the street. We thought you might be able to stomach that," Gibbs shifted on the bed, making room for her to sit up. He held out his hand and she gripped it firmly, wincing as the raw skin on her wrists stretched from the pressure as he helped pull her up.

He reached over and fluffed the pillow at her back, giving her a backrest. Gibbs slipped off the bed and reached into the small hotel-fridge, pulling out a cup and straw and readying the drink before handing it to her.

Ziva took a tentative sip and felt herself grin involuntarily. Her favorite flavors.

"DiNozzo remembered," Gibbs said simply, a fatherly grin on his face.

The figure on the floor stirred suddenly, lurching upright. "Huh? What'd I do, boss?" Tony said, his voice in a whisper in deference to Ziva, who he still thought was sleeping.

She turned and offered Tony a warm look. "Thank you," she whispered, tilting the cup at him.

He blinked and merely nodded, unsure if a smile would be well received.

Gibbs looked back and forth between them briefly before grabbing his jacket. "Now that you've both joined the land of the living, I'm going to go catch up with McGee. We're leaving in 30 – be ready."

He turned and the door clicked behind him, leaving them both regarding each other somewhat warily.

* * *


	6. Chapter 6

She frowned down at the cup, the silence since Gibbs left overpowering the room.

Tony shifted his position making his access to his sidearm easier.

It was an instinctive reaction and one she was relieved to see- she was in no condition to be fighting for her life and having Tony able to protect them both was calming.

"Abby's upset we left her behind again," he said with a lopsided smirk, trying to chase the silence off with simple words.

"I'm sorry you _all _had to come," she managed to say, her voice hoarse.

"I'm not," he said, the light tone immediately gone from his voice. "I wouldn't want to be anywhere else."

She met his eyes and acknowledge the words with a small nod. "That is not what I meant," she started.

"I don't care," he said firmly, shifting so he knelt at her bedside, looking up into her chocolate gaze. "If it were us, would you have come?"

Ziva's reply was immediate and without hesitation: "Yes."

"OK then. We're a team," he said, his hand ever so gently resting on her blanket-covered knee. "We're family. Its what we do. We look out for our own."

She nodded and spun the cup in her fingers.

Tony leaned forward and nabbed the straw with his own lips, taking a healthy pull. He pulled back and made a face of disgust. "I still don't know how you drink that stuff. Apple, Peach and Strawberry? Ick!"

Ziva watched as he commandeered her straw with the familiarity one has with their lover or their child. She watched as he mocked her drink choice. And she found herself unable to be upset with him.

She found herself feeling incredibly lucky.

That feeling didn't stop her from glaring at him and whispering "Pig."

And it didn't stop her from feeling pleased when she got a light wink in return.

He put his hands on the bed and pushed himself to his feet and Ziva noticed that he wasn't bearing much weight on his injured shoulder, despite using it in normal motions.

He gently took the cup from her hands and put it on the nightstand. "You should get washed up; we've got a long plane ride ahead of us," he said.

"Where are we going?" she said, allowing him to very gently help her to her feet. Her legs shook from weakness and she leaned her weight against him as he wrapped his good arm around her. They slowly moved towards the bathroom.

"Home," was Tony's simple reply.

And they both knew that 'home' did not mean Israel.


	7. Chapter 7

She didn't remember much of the plane ride.

She remembered dozing with her head pillowed in Gibb's lap.

She remembered playing cards with Tony to pass an hour or so before exhaustion overtook her yet again.

She remembered helping McGee with a few portions of his next book. And she remembered the arched eyebrows Tony had sent her way when McGee mentioned Officer Lisa and Agent Tommy's love affair.

She remembered lunch consisting of dry toast and fruit, all she was able to stand. Her stomach had shrunk, it seemed, when she was being interrogated- one light meal a week would do that to a girl. 'Her boys,' as she had come to think of Gibbs, McGee and Tony, were slowly helping her eat what she was able without any pressure.

Ziva remembered Tony standing behind her for what seemed like hours and ever-so-gently brushing the snarls out of her mangled hair. She remembered hearing him curse under his breath as he realized there were portions of hair that had been ripped out, hacked off, and broken. She knew it would be months before her long curls were back in place and Ziva was amused at how it was _that _which angered Tony so violently, not the huge swelling that had taken over one side of her face.

When they deplaned, she was aware enough to notice McGee carrying an extra bag and she was aware enough to recognize it as her own bag- the one she had taken aboard the ship.

McGee had caught sight of her shocked gaze and merely smiled at her. "What, you thought we'd leave it on the ship?" he said simply.

And, not for the first time, Ziva made a note of just how much Tim had grown.

Ziva had paused when they reached Gibb's car and frowned. She realized she had nowhere to go. Her apartment had been blown up. She had resigned with NCIS- not that it mattered as she had essentially defected from Mossad and would no longer be a liaison anyway.

She realized her swollen face must have reflected all of her thoughts and she startled slightly when she felt a strong hand settle gently on her shoulder. "I'm crashing at a friend's house for a while," Tony had offered. "You can stay at my place for as long as you want."

It was an offer that had shocked her and she remembered looking at him in such confusion for a moment before he loaded her into the backseat of the car and, surprisingly, slid in next to her instead of his typical seat next to Gibbs upfront.

She watched McGee buckle into the passenger's seat and she felt Tony help her with her seat belt as she still was still limited in her range of motion.

The ride towards Tony's apartment was somewhat of a blur as she watched the three men in the car with her. Gibbs and McGee sent her occasional glances, their faces reflected a patience and tolerance. When she looked at Tony, she felt his eyes firmly on her as if he was afraid that by looking anywhere else, she'd disappear in a dream.

She slid her fingers across the back seat and ever so softly laid her fingers over his.


	8. Chapter 8

Tony had hopped out, his bag in one hand, the other held out gallantly to help her from the car.

Ziva hated her weaknesses. She hated showing him how much they had gotten to her. But it was not to be denied; she had taken one hell of a beating and it was on pure stubbornness alone that she had remained standing this long.

She placed her shaking hand in his calloused one and allowed herself to be gently pulled from the vehicle.

"See ya tomorrow, Ziver," Gibbs said, calling over his shoulder in the car.

Ziva turned, puzzled as she watched Gibbs and Tim toss her a loving wave before slowly pulling away.

"Where are they-" she started before noticing Tony's car in his driveway instead of the NCIS lot as she had assumed. .

"I'll ride over to my friend's once I get you settled," he said simply as he stepped out of her way and moved them slowly towards his door.

"Tony, I do not feel right taking your place. I can get a hotel," she started, watching him turn the key in the lock.

He snickered. "Riiight. We're going to let you shack up at the Motel 6 while I snooze on my pillow top mattress. I think not," he stepped aside and let her precede him into the apartment.

She moved rather hesitantly across his townhouse's threshold and found herself taken aback by the beautiful large bouquet of lavender and roses on the coffee table.

Tony shut the door with a gentle click and made sure he through the deadbolt and chain – if for nothing more than her own reassurance than actual safety. When he caught her gaze resting on the bouquet in the beautiful crystal vase, he grinned. "I can't tell you the promises McGee had to make to keep Abby from throwing a Welcome Home party for you."

"She did this?"

"She and Ducky and Palmer, yeah," he said, grinning as he watched her lean down to smell the flowers. Tony watched her movements; stiff and halted by various swellings and bruises. He watched as she instinctively moved her hand to the side of her face to hold her hair back-- and he watched as she realized too late that half of her hair had been ripped or broken and her locks weren't nearly long enough to drape in the way anymore. When she was ready, he'd make her an appointment for a day of pampering at the best spa in town; her hair would definitely need the magical touch of a beautician and, he was sure she wouldn't mind a good massage or something equally luxurious.

"How did they know?" she managed to ask, fingering the beautiful petals on the various colored roses in the vase.

"McGee emailed them the whole time. When he wasn't puking from the boat ride, that is. And Gibbs and I called the minute we knew you were safe. Abby demanded some photos," he paused with a teasing smile. "McGee had to use his webcam."

"There are photos?" she queried, her voice no longer sounding at all tolerant.

"Just one. While you were sleeping," he said quickly, knowing he had put his foot in it.

Her good eye narrowed and Ziva found herself pleased that her death-glare still held some measure of threat as she watched Tony visibly recoil from her look. "I am certain they aren't my best photos."

"You looked beautiful," he said softly, his eyes distant.

She frowned: "I will personally make sure McGee deletes them this time."

He grinned at her reference to her photos from California. "We'll see," he teased, heading towards the bedroom. He stopped momentarily in the doorway, regarding the scene in front of him.

His sheets had been replaced with a beautiful soft periwinkle blue set. A delicate quilt, looking far from new was folded gently at the foot of the bed. A gray hippo was in the middle of his bed. And laid next to the hippo, a sage green journal and a new pen.

A small envelope topped it off.

"Looks like the welcoming committee didn't stop with the flowers," he said, having heard her follow him down the hall and stand behind him as he took in the scene from the doorway. He stepped into the bedroom and set her bag on bench at the foot of his bed. Tony watched as Ziva lifted the envelope and pulled out the card. Her face was a mix of shock, awe, and love as she read.

"The quilt was Ducky's Grandmother's," she said in a whisper.

"And Abby brought your Bert," Tony contributed.

"And Palmer brought me a journal."

Tony grinned. "We did say 'no party.' There was no rule about 'no gifts.'"

She looked up at him, shocked. "I do not understand."

"What's to understand?" He asked, peaking into his bathroom and smiling. "Looks like Abby brought you girly shampoo and razors and stuff. And pretty chic towels, too...oh, look, there's even new pajamas on the counter. That girl thinks of everything."

She moved up behind him "But why? After all that has happened-"

He closed his eyes and found himself resisting the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose. It had been a long day. And while he was ecstatic beyond words to have Ziva standing in front of him, alive and healthy – well, relatively – his frustration with their current relationship was starting to wear on his nerves. He didn't know what to do, how to act... it was exhausting.

But normalcy was what she seemed to need.

So that's what he'd provide.

"Zi," he said, opening his eyes and finding her in front of the bathroom mirror, taking her first look at herself since being taken prisoner.

Tony's heart broke as he watched her fingers gently prod the swelling that encompassed the left side of her face. He watched as her hands ran through her hair, assessing the damage. And he watched as she looked down at her hands and wrists, finding them mottled with purple spots from bruisngs.

"Zi," he said again, stepping up behind her and resting his hands delicately on her shoulders. He felt her flinch and then immediately relax and he knew the flinch was a reaction to recent events, not to him personally, despite everything. "You're family," he said simply, watching her in the mirror.

He continued, knowing that this may be the only opportunity to speak before the shock of the past few days wore off and she returned to being hurt and resentful.

"We missed you. It wasn't the same without you; the team wasn't the same," he let his hands move ever so slightly off her shoulders and onto her upper arms. "Everyone knows that we were really lucky – Abby says 'blessed'– to get you back. Palmer, Ducky, Abby, Gibbs, Tim... all would have given their right arms to make sure you were okay. Just like you would have for them."

She heard the names of the team, all but his own name. And she couldn't bite back the words. "And you?"

"I would have given everything," he said simply. He ducked his head and pressed his lips into the crown of her hair, kissing her atop her head. "You're a sight for sore eyes, Zee-vah," he whispered into her hair before gently releasing his hold and taking a step back and reaching for the doorknob.

She found herself dumbstruck, watching his motions still through the mirror.

"Why don't you freshen up or shower or… whatever you girls do. And I'll go scrounge up some dinner. You've gotta be hungry." Tony pulled the door behind him, letting it click gently and leaving her alone in the bathroom with only her reflection for company.


	9. Chapter 9

The soup had started to simmer on the stove when he heard her feet padding down the hallway.

Tony turned and took in her bedraggled appearance but was unable to do anything but grin. She was a mess; but at least she was here.

She looked somewhat ashamed and Tony observed as she obviously squared her shoulders: "I think tomorrow I should see Ducky."

Tony felt his heart skip slightly. "Are you ok? Did they..." he wasn't able to eek out the words and he had to clear his throat and take a quick steeling breath before trying again. "Did they-"

She cut him off with an upraised hand, knowing where his mind had gone. "No." Ziva replied quickly. "They did not rape me."

Ziva watched Tony's shoulders relax ever so slightly as what was obviously one of his deepest fears was disproved. The "Thank God" she knew he had thought was almost a visible expression on his face.

"There are some cuts on my back. I think they may need stitches," she said simply, explaining her need for a doctor.

Tony nodded and jerked his head towards the sofa. "Go sit," he said. "I'll get the first aid kit. If they're not too bad, we can see Ducky in the morning. You need your sleep," he said firmly and was mildly surprised when she actually did as he indicated and moved towards the sofa.

He grabbed the box of first aid supplies that he kept under his bathroom sink. It had seen him through many work-related injuries, never mind the serious bruises Ziva always left after one of their sparring sessions.

As he approached the living room, he took a moment to observe his partner. She sat sideways on the sofa, her right arm resting on the back of the couch and her head pillowed on her arm. He noticed the residual tension in her body and, not for the first time, he cursed himself for the part he played in putting it there.

He slipped behind her on the sofa and set the first aid kit on the coffee table.

She looked over her shoulder at him, an exhausted look on her face.

"Can you, um,..." he discretely waved a hand at the hem of her shirt.

A year ago, he would have made some comment about red-light behavior. He would have tickled her ribs quickly as he pulled the shirt up. She would have swatted his hand away and laughed good-naturedly while moving her shirt out of the way.

It was the fact that neither of them did any of that which caused the melancholy look to settle over their faces.

She reached down and with her very bruised and swollen hands, she tugged the shirt up on the sides as far as she could and leaned forward, exposing her lower back to him.

Tony delicately lifted the shirt the rest of the way in the back and hissed in sympathy as the deep lacerations, recently opened from the moisture of her long shower, were red and angry on her back.

"Damnit," he muttered under his breath as he reached for the peroxide and cotton pad.

She knew his touch was gentle as he wiped down the injuries on her back. She knew he couldn't help the sting as the peroxide killed the bacteria in her open wound. And she knew that every time she flinched, he mentally kicked himself for causing her pain.

When he stopped and ever-so-gently dabbed her back with the antibiotic cream, she forced herself to relax into his caring touch. She forced herself to focus on the years of working with him when he had been caring and kind, not the recent weeks when he, in an effort to protect her, had caused her pain.

Tony pulled the shirt down over her wounds. "I'll call Ducky. Do you want him to come now or tomorrow?" he said softly, packing up his medical supplies.

"Tomorrow will be fine, I think," she said. "They will scar, I am sure, having been open this long anyway."

"We're lucky they aren't infected," Tony said simply. He had heard from VanTright about the room on the ship where she had been kept. The way it had been described, they were lucky she hadn't caught the plague from the rats all over the place.

"There's chicken soup on the stove," he offered, standing and taking the first aid kit in hand and quickly returning it to the bathroom.

Ziva rose stiffly and helped herself to a half of a mug of soup, eating slowly as she knew it was best for her body even if she didn't have an appetite.

She felt him watching her from the door frame as she put her empty mug and used spoon into the sink gently.

Tony jerked a thumb towards the front door. "I'm goona head out if you're all set. I've, um, I've got my cell if you need anything."

Her wild hair moved as she nodded simply. "I still do not feel right about taking over your home."

"Its fine," he shrugged. "I'll come by in the morning and take you to see Ducky if you're up for it. Call if you need anything, ok?"

She nodded again and watched as he hesitated and visibly moved towards her ever so slightly before turning on his heel and heading towards the door, grabbing his keys on the way.

"Tony!" she called after him; her words caused him to stop mid motion with the door open, knob in hand.

She had caught up with him, though her movements were somewhat less than graceful with all of her bruising and injuries.

She moved, settling a hand on his arm and squeezing as much as her swollen fingers would permit. "Thank you," she said.

He nodded and offered her a lop-sided smile before heading out the door.


	10. Chapter 10

"You know, my dear, I never thought I'd be pleased to see you on one of my tables," the older man chuckled as he moved towards her with sutures in hand.

Ziva felt herself smile, despite the pressure from his needle mending the open wounds on her back. She lay face down on his cool metal table, her arms folded and pillowing her head as her exposed back was at Ducky's mercy.

Mid morning, Tony had snuck her in the back way and immediately down to Autopsy, bypassing the busy bullpen and the invading questions that many of their co-workers would no doubt have.

Ziva had been greeted with Ducky enfolding her into a grandfatherly embrace which had, surprising even herself, brought a tear to her eye.

Tony had quietly explained the need for their visit that early morning and then been politely shooed from the office by the medical examiner. Ducky explained that while his traditional patients did not have a need for privacy, this particular guest – being Ziva- might not want an audience.

Tony had managed to rouse up a saucy grin for Ducky's benefit before leaving the room, promising to meet Ziva in the bullpen when she was ready.

The sutures weren't painful. Receiving the cuts had been painful; the same cuts being reopened by the second, third, and fourth beatings had been painful. Having them sewed up was a blessing in disguise and Ziva knew it. She held still as Ducky gently sutured the gashes on her back.

He had muttered gentle apologies about his suture techniques not being as refined as a traditional physician- after all most of his patients didn't care about scaring. She had brushed off his apologies with a chuckle and "Its fine, Ducky."

Ducky's wizened hands applied the ointment and bandages and he managed to dig out a surprisingly new prescription bottle of an antibiotic. She had raised an eyebrow at him, knowing that he couldn't prescribe medicine and the drugs had to come from another physician.

He had merely shrugged, cocking his head in his flirty and coy way and explained that she was well worth calling in a favor from a colleague.

She had kissed his cheek and offered her thanks and, in reply, received a very serious look and a loving squeeze to her arm. "Welcome home, my dear. Do stick around this time, hmm?"


	11. Chapter 11

She moved out of the stairwell from Autopsy and into the bullpen, her beloved desk in her line of sight and looking exactly as it had the day she left. She had felt Tony's hand gently at her back, ever so subtly pushing her through the stairwell door opening.

He let the door click behind them and followed her towards their desks. Tony smirked, his eyes catching sight of the black pigtails flailing as Abby tottered towards them on her platforms at full speed.

"Ziva Ziva Ziva Ziva!"

She braced herself for impact, recoiling slightly as Abby's enthusiastic squeeze pushed on her lacerations.

"Careful, Abs," Tony said gently, sliding one of his arms over the Goth's shoulders and very politely guiding her squeeze off of Ziva. "She's got some nasty cuts—don't break her when we just got her back."

"Oh no! I'm sorry, Ziva. Did I smoosh you?" Abby said, her voice truly regretful.

"It is ok," Ziva replied with a smile at her friend. "I will be fine."

Abby grinned and turned towards Gibbs. "Gibbs, Gibbs, look who's here!"

"I know, Abs," Gibbs replied with a grin before he took a swig of his ever-present coffee.

"We went to get her, don't forget," Tim added, smiling his greeting at Ziva from over his computer monitor.

"But this is exciting! Ziva's back! We should have a party," Abby said, turning her pleading eyes towards Gibbs. "Can we order pizza, Gibbs? And balloons? Every party needs balloons."

"Not today, Abby," he replied simply. "Ziva's going back home to rest."

The former Mossad agent arched an eyebrow at how her schedule was suddenly dictated without her consent. Wisely, she remained silent.

Tony agreed. "Its kinda been a long week. How about a party next week if she's up to it, Abs?"

"Excellent!" Abby's blue eyes sparkled.

Tony grinned at his friends exuberance. He turned to Ziva; "Why don't you get anything you need from your desk. I'll meet you at the elevator."

She nodded and watched as Tony moved to whisper something in Abby's ear.

Whatever he said earned a squeal and an eye-popping hug from his friend before Abby tottered past Ziva with another quick gentle hug before she dove into the elevator and hit the button for her lab.

Ziva watched as Gibbs called Tony over and handed him a large manilla envelope and, in a hushed discussion that she wasn't able to hear, narrowed his eyes at Tony and gave him a head-slap which, Ziva was sure, felt even worse than it looked.

She met Tim's amused gaze and she was pleased to find a McGee-wink sent her way.

It was nice to be home.


	12. Chapter 12

The ride back to his place had been quiet as Ziva, tired from even the short trip to the office, fought her exhaustion.

It was when he opened the door and gently tossed the envelope onto the coffee table that she dared ask: "What did Gibbs give you?"

"A concussion," was his quick and witty reply as he rubbed the spot on the back of his head.

"I meant in the envelope," she said with a small smile. "But since you mentioned it, what was that about?"

Tony couldn't help but notice how she had relaxed just enough to be curious and start conversation. He debated telling her the truth against telling her some fun story he was sure he could concoct. But, with recent events, he knew that honesty would have to be their main course from now on.

"He told me that if I left my laundry in a pile on the floor again, I'd be waking up to his sig pointed at my nose."

She felt her eyes widen at the realization. "You're staying with Gibbs?"

He nodded and walked into the fridge, pulling out a bottle of water and taking a drink.

"Tony-"

He shrugged. "Its not a big deal, Ziva."

"Tony, it is a big deal. The first time we saw the inside of his house, was when we were being questioned by Fornell!" She paused. "He's letting you stay there?"

"For now. Next week I'm at McGee's," he said honestly. "After that, Abby's. Then Ducky's."

"You are being passed around because my being here makes you homeless! This is not -"

"Don't say it," he said firmly, interrupting her. "Don't say its not fair or its not right or its too much trouble. Don't say any of that. Because this was _our _choice, Ziva. You need a safe place to stay and we made that happen. This is what we can do for you right now. We can't take out the assholes that captured you. God knows as much as I want to, I can't go beat the piss out of your father," he said, his temper rising as he spoke. "But I _can_ do this. I can make sure you have a place to sleep. I can make sure you're safe at work – where no one will send you out on a suicide-mission."

The minute the words left his mouth, he knew he had overstepped. He knew he had said too much.

It was all true, but it wasn't something they were speaking of.

Of course, with recent events, there wasn't much that _was _a safe topic of conversation.

She blinked against his words and he watched as she lowered herself into a nearby armchair. She had no retort; no words against the sacrifice the team had made for her.

For a brief moment, she was being shown how much everyone would give up to make sure she was safe and happy; and for a brief moment, the stark comparison against what little her father had offered her was bright in her mind.

He took a calming breath and ran his hand through his hair. "I'm going to go grab some clothes I forgot last night. Then I'll be out of your hair." He moved quickly towards the bedroom and returned a few minutes later with his duffel bag over his shoulder.

Ziva looked up, her gaze catching his and Tony blinked at the raw emotion that was evident in her eyes.

Tony sighed. _Now or Never, DiNozzo. Might as well get it out._

"Since I already pissed you off I'm just going to say this so now so you can be upset with me all at once," he started and he rested against the arm of the sofa, trying to give his posture some casual appearance which he certainly did not feel.

"I never meant to hurt you," he said, referring to shooting Rivkin. "I was mad; he was using you and - you're too good for that, Ziva. It was killing me to watch you fall for someone who didn't see you as more than a pawn in this giant game of spy-versus-spy. I mean, I know this is what Mossad trains for, but you deserve more respect than that."

He paused and gathered his thoughts briefly. "I wish I could take it back – I wish there had been a better way ... I wish I hadn't shot him. But I can't go back and fix it. I can't ask for your forgiveness; I probably don't deserve it. I can just hope that one day you'll trust me again."

Tony stood, shouldering the bag he had dropped by his feet when he began his small speech. "Call me if you need anything, ok?" he had added quietly as he slipped out the front door.


	13. Chapter 13

She had stayed there, staring off into space and processing the events of the last week as best as her battered mind could. After several hours of quiet contemplation, she had drifted into sleep still in the chair. It was a violent nightmare, reminiscent of her beatings on the ship that startled her into wakefulness.

Ziva had forced herself to take in her surroundings and, the comfort of Tony's apartment caused her heart to slow and she was able to catch her breath.

She instinctively reached for the spare cell phone on Tony's end-table and dialed his number.

His voice was groggy when he answered. "What's the matter? You ok?"

Ziva felt herself frowning slightly at his worry for her. "I … I do not know why I called," she said honestly.

"Are you ok?" he repeated, his voice sounding more awake this time, and Ziva took note of the darkened sky, the moonlight shining through the the front drapes. She realized that her involuntary 'nap' had turned into sleeping through the entire evening.

"I'm fine," she said simply. "I think I had a nightmare. But I'm fine now."

"I'll be right over," he said quickly and Ziva heard the sounds of him shuffling into his shoes across the phone lines.

"Tony, I'm fine. I'm sorry I woke you-"

"I'll be right over," he repeated firmly.

Ziva knew better than to disagree with that tone of voice and merely flipped the cell phone closed, returning it to the end table.

When they first returned from the office, she had noticed her name typed on the front of the large envelope Tony had brought back with them. But she had not brought herself to open it. Now, with her mind racing for something to take it off of the nightmare, she managed to get her shaky fingers under the pronged brad that held it shut and she ripped the envelope open.

The small plastic cards tumbled out into her lap and she felt herself regarding them with something akin to awe.

She fingered the greencard, her eyes scanning across the words and memorizing them. She opened the passport, noticing that the photo was the same as the one from her NCIS security badge. Her breath caught in her throat when she read the citizenship line.

US: Permanent Resident.

She read it again to make sure she wasn't hallucinating.

She picked up her new driver's license and found the same identifying clause proving her new citizenship status.

Several papers had fallen out in the midst of the smaller forms of identification and she read through them, barely moving when she heard Tony's key in the lock.

She must have been lost in her thoughts, staring at the documents for longer than she had thought if he had gotten there that quickly.

Or he had started driving like she did.

Both were certainly possibilities.

She turned when she heard the door shut behind him and she heard his footsteps move towards her.

"Gibbs didn't think you'd wanna make a big production out of that," Tony said, settling onto the couch and noticing what she was reading.

Ziva looked up and met his warm gaze. She took in his appearance and noticed his bed-head and boxer shorts. He had managed to throw on a well-worn OSU t-shirt, but she still knew he had rolled out of bed, grabbed his keys and come straight over.

"How did he do this?" she asked simply.

"Turns out Fornell's got a soft-spot for ya," Tony said with a grin.

"For me?"

He nodded. "A few of us do," he added with a small grin. "Gibbs filled him in. Fornell pulled some strings and you're officially a US citizen-- assuming that's what you want."

"I....I do not know; I never thought about it."

Tony shrugged. "Its your choice."

"A green card means my citizenship can be revoked," she said simply.

"As if we'd let that happen," Tony countered with a sardonic grin.

Ziva fingered the cards again before taking the items and placing them back in the envelope reverently. She stood and moved almost hesitantly towards him on the sofa.

He stretched his arm across the back of the sofa and watched as she made her way to his side. Tony forced himself to remain relaxed as she moved into his space. He was petrified she would walk away, making the chasm between them even larger.

Ziva settled onto the sofa next to him, tucking one leg beneath her so she was able to watch his face. "I cannot go back," she said simply.

He nodded.

"Tali, Ari, … they're buried there," she said. "I do not wish to abandon them."

He nodded again, not knowing what to say to her stark admission.

"But my new family is here, it seems," she said simply. She felt herself fiddle with the fingers in her lap, a nervous habit she thought she had outgrown as a young girl.

"Sometimes the families you pick are more valuable than the ones you were born into," Tony offered, uncharacteristicly sage words coming from his mouth. He settled his hand over hers, stilling her fingers nervous fidgets. "We love you because we choose to. They love you because they have to."

She felt herself smile involuntarily at his words of wisdom, wincing slightly as the swelling on her face creased with her grin.

"Except for me," he added, his voice in a whisper.

She looked up, her eyes suddenly wary.

Tony grinned. "I love you because I don't know how not to."

Ziva felt her eyes well with tears and she blinked back, trying hard to fight off the emotion as weeks of tension and strife overwhelmed her.

She felt his arm circle her and he gently pulled her to his chest in a hug, rubbing her back and feeling her relax against the affection. He shifted, pulling a pillow into his lap and remaining silent as she shifted and curled up, her head resting on the pillow.

He stroked his fingers through her hair gently, watching the rise and fall of her chest mellow into a smooth rhythm as sleep finally, gently took her.


	14. Chapter 14

Ziva stretched, as she slowly wakened. She realized, suddenly, that for the first time in weeks, her slumber had not been woken by someone beating her violently, causing daggers of pain to rip through her as they tenderly cleaned a wound, or her subconscious causing her heart rate to skyrocket as she suffered from vicious nightmares.

She took stock of her surroundings and was heartened to find a gentle hand resting protectively over her shoulder. A deep breath and she recognized the smell of the clove-scented soap Tony used, her nose not far from his knee.

The soft light of morning had slipped through the drapes in the front window.

She gently covered his knee with her bruised fingers and squeezed ever so slightly.

"Good morning, sleeping beauty," he said, his voice soft but not at all tinged with sleep.

Ziva rolled over onto her back, cautious of the sutures and settled on the pillow looking up at him.

"We were here all night?" she asked, stifling a yawn.

Tony nodded. "I thought about carrying you into the bedroom, but I couldn't decide which would be worse: wrenching my shoulder again, or scaring the hell out of you if I woke you up."

She took the attempt at a joke for what it was and merely half-smiled. "Did you get any rest?"

He shook his head.

"Gibbs is going to kill you," she said. "You're going to be late for work."

Tony shook his head. "I already called him; McGee's on his way over later this afternoon to drop something off for you."

"For me?" she queried, Ziva slowly sat up, feeling his hand on her shoulder helping her in her still weakened state.

Tony grunted an affirmative reply, stretching his legs before standing, trying to get the blood flow back to his lower limbs that had acted as a pillow for her all night.

"And Gibbs will be by, too," he said. "So you may be more comfortable in something that isn't pajamas, though I have to say – those look amazing," he said with a teasing tone. Abby's choice of night-wear had caused them both to grin knowingly. The black and red Pajama pants and matching black tank top were all sporting various skull and crossbones. Hot Topic had obviously gotten their money's worth out of Abby in her attempt to make Ziva feel more at home.

"They do not have to come by," she muttered.

Tony stood and looked at her, his gaze clearly unsure of where they stood. "They want to," he merely said, heading to the bathroom. "I'm going to go for a run while I'm here, then I'll head over to Gibbs' and get ready for work."

She nodded and watched as he slipped his bedroom to pull on his running clothes.

As he came back out, she stood from her spot on the sofa and hesitantly spoke. "I can make breakfast," she said.

Tony turned, arching an eye as he regarded her with confusion. "I can do the hustle." he countered. "Are we comparing talents?"

She frowned and sighed, trying again. "Would you _like _breakfast when you get back?"

He couldn't suppress the grin. "That'd be nice," he said, letting the front door shut behind him as he headed out for his morning run.


	15. Chapter 15

The scrambled eggs had been perfect.

She had surprised him by making bacon. He knew she didn't keep Kosher, but pork products weren't high on the list of things she ate daily.

But she had made it. Along with toast and scrambled eggs.

And Tony watched as she very cautiously put real, solid food in her stomach for the first time in a long while.

"Stop watching me eat," she said, trying not to snap across the kitchen table.

"I just wanna make sure I'm out of the way if your stomach rebels," he teased, complying with her request and returning his meal with vigor.

"This is delicious, Ziva," he said after a few moments of silence between them.

She shrugged. "It was simple enough."

"That's not what I said," he corrected her. "I didn't say it was a challenging culinary feat worthy of a gourmet gold medal. I said its delicious. That's when you say 'I'm glad you like it, Tony,' or 'Thank you for the compliment, Tony.' That's the way this works, Ziva."

Ziva pinned him with a serious glare, the effect even better than before as the swelling in the side of her face had decreased over night and her other eye was beginning to be visible again. "Thank you for the compliment, Tony. Eat your breakfast before I stab you with this fork," she added through a fake smile.

He rolled his eyes, refusing to laugh at her snarky attitude that was slowly peaking its way back into her personality.

The Ziva he had grown to love over the last few years was one who was fierce and strong and defined every meaning of the "kick-ass-ninja-chick" name the team had saddled her with. But the Ziva he had tended to over the last few days had been a weakened, heartbroken, shell of her former self.

It was heartening to hear her sarcastic and witty replies again, even if they usually did threaten him with bodily harm.

"You'll be ok until McGeek gets here?" He asked, finishing off the last of his breakfast with a flourish.

She nodded and munched a piece of toast as she watched him load his plate into the dishwasher. The domestic scene before her provided her with an eerie sense of calm.

"I will be fine," she said simply.

He turned and leaned back against the kitchen cabinet, folding his arms across his chest. "I can stay until he gets here, you know," he offered, hesitantly.

"I will be fine," she repeated.

He regarded her, his eyes conveying his reluctance to leave.

"I'll .. um.. I'm not staying at the office long. Gibbs just needs me to finish up some reports." The unspoken offer of returning to be in her company, when he was done hung thick in the air.

She stood and moved around him, rinsing her own plate and putting it in the sink to be loaded into the dishwasher later.

When she finally stood in front of him, the tension was thick.

"If you would like to come over, I would not mind the company," she said, tenderly reaching out with an olive branch.

He nodded, relief filling both their eyes.

"Maybe we can talk?" she asked, barely able to eek it out louder than a whisper.

"I'll bring a pizza," he offered, accepting her invitation for the talk, as much as the companionship. "And a movie if you want."

Ziva managed a sardonic chuckle. "As if you do not already have a bigger movie selection than Blockbuster!"

He frowned, feigning hurt at her words and headed out the front door for the morning.


	16. Chapter 16

The knocking at the door had startled her away from the crossword she was stubbornly trying to finish – when she was this close to completion (only four missing clues) she wasn't above using Yiddish to complete the puzzle.

McGee's visit had been longer than she anticipated but one she thoroughly enjoyed. He had made her a cup of tea to accompany the tin of shortbread cookies Ducky had sent over. They had sat and talked for what felt like hours.

"Your face looks better," he had offered, wincing as soon as the words were out of his mouth. He knew that probably wasn't the most polite way to comment on her appearance.

Luckily, it was Ziva and she merely chuckled at his faux pas. "It is healing well," she said simply with a gentle smile McGee's way to tell him no harm was done at his words.

Tim had sat quietly for a moment, staring into his tea-cup as if he could divine the right words out of the spare tea leaves at the bottom of the cup. "I don't know that I've ever seen him so angry, Ziva," he said simply.

"Who?"

"Tony," Tim said, clearing his throat and continuing. "Gibbs got off the phone with you and was calling old Marine-buddies left and right. When he told us what he found out – you know, about who had you and how you got there, Tony's blood pressure went through the roof."

Tim paused. "You know how when he gets really upset, he does this babbly irate thing?"

Ziva nodded, sipping her tea.

"He didn't do that, this time," Tim said. "He got quiet. Really quiet. And you know as well as I do, a quiet Tony is not a happy Tony. We buckled in on the jet, and Gibbs saw Tony's face...man I thought Gibbs would head-slap him so hard that Tony's eyes would pop out," Tim shook his head. "But he didn't. Gibbs just … he looked at Tony and said 'You're no good to her like this.' And that was that.

"They talked a little on the flight over, but I swear, Ziva, I've never seen Tony that upset before. He was hurt and frustrated and angry all rolled up in one."

"I'm sorry-" she started, not knowing what to say to the story.

"I didn't tell you to make you feel sorry," Tim interrupted. "I just wanted you to know how much we care about you," he said. "I mean, I know you had your reasons for staying in Israel – and I respect that it was your choice! But... we missed you. And I was scared to death for you, Ziva. And … you and Tony have something different than you and me. We're friends," Tim said, gesturing between the two of them. "But you and Tony are something else. And I can only imagine how bad this was for you and him. You going through all that on the ship...and him … I mean... We're just lucky, you know? We're all just really lucky you're here," he said as he finished his impromptu speech with a healthy sip of tea.

She looked at him across the table and managed a small smile. "Thank you," she simply said and got a firm nod in return.

He reached into his backpack and pulled out a medium size package, wrapped simply in brown paper.

"I, um... this is for you. I hope I didn't … I mean, I hope this is ok," he said, resting the package on the table. Tim rose as he set the package down and he shouldered his bag. "I'll let you get some rest. I know you've had a long week."

McGee leaned down and ever so gently placed a friendly kiss on Ziva's cheek. "Glad you're back, Ziva."

She turned, watching as he let himself out of the townhouse.


	17. Chapter 17

The second knock on the door startled her more than the first, as she had been expecting McGee's visit. Gibbs had called through the door to her, to assuage any concerns she might have had about her visitor's identity and she opened the door with a hesitant smile for her former boss.

"Not lookin too bad today, Ziva," he said, appraising her face, as he stepped into the townhouse.

"So I have been told," she replied, referring to McGee's comment from earlier that day.

The older man hovered in the entry way, coffee cup firmly in hand. "I won't stay long- I just wanted to see if you had any questions about that envelope DiNozzo brought home for you yesterday."

She looked at the ground before looking up at him. "I... I did not see a new NCIS badge in there," she said softly. "I will have to find a new job; do you have any suggestions?"

"No suggestions." Gibbs smirked. "Your badge is waiting for you on your desk," he simply replied. "If you ever actually come to the office, you'll get it," he teased dryly.

Ziva nodded and a small relieved grin formed on her lips. "And Director Vance? He is ok with my return?"

"Vance made some decisions based on false information," Gibbs replied. "He's been shown the error of his ways and is happy to bring you back."

"Happy?"

"I've found some information on him that has _forced _him to be happy," Gibbs said.

Ziva felt her eyebrows rise at the implications of blackmail. "Gibbs, I-"

He interrupted her. "Ziva, your father lied to Vance and did everything in his power to get you away from us. Your father set you up. And Vance knows it now, but is refusing to back down – he thinks its a damned pissing contest. I've been sitting on some information for a while and I decided you were well-worth calling in that particular bargaining chip."

She had known, long before Gibbs spoke the words, that her father had betrayed her. She had known from the minute she set foot on that ship that she had been sent on a suicide mission.

But knowing something as fact, and having someone you respect and who loves you point it out are two entirely different things. And Ziva felt the words wash over her with sadness.

Gibbs moved into her space and gently cupped her cheek in a fatherly gesture. "If I could, I'd shoot him for what he did to you," he said simply, looking deep into her aching brown eyes. "And I know that what he did has got to hurt more than any cut or bruise you got on that damned ship."

She blinked slowly, feeling a tear sneak out of the corner of her eye. Somewhere in the recesses of her mind, she realized she cried more in the last few days than she had in recent years.

"I don't understand it. I would give everything to have my little girl back – even for one day. And your rat bastard of a father plays you like a damned poker chip," Gibbs continued, kissing her forehead quickly. "He didn't know what a beautiful gem you are. And his loss is our gain. Don't you ever forget it, Ziver."

She moved in quickly and hugged him close, refusing to cry on Gibbs' shoulder but fighting a loosing battle as a few more tears snuck through her defenses and onto his shirt.

Gibbs gave her a firm squeeze before releasing her and letting her compose herself briefly.

"You're due at work on Monday. That gives you the rest of the week to recuperate. Good thing you saved up all that sick leave, huh?" Gibbs said with an almost imperceptible wink.

He was pretending that he never received her informal resignation on that airport runway; he was pretending she never asked him to chose between herself and Tony. And she was infinitely grateful.

She nodded at him and watched as he, like all the other men in her life, slipped out the door, leaving her alone with her thoughts.


	18. Chapter 18

He poked his head through the front door, expecting to see her sprawled on the couch, nose buried in a book.

Instead, the house was quiet and Tony couldn't help the sense of worry that crept up in his chest when he had no sight nor sound of her greet him.

He set the pizza box on the coffee table, a DVD balanced on top, and he moved quickly and quietly through the house. His fingers itched to pull his weapon, but the last thing he wanted to do was stumble upon Ziva with his gun drawn; that certainly would not add to helping her feel secure.

The small lamp on his nightstand cast a dim glow around his bedroom and Tony felt himself release a sigh when he found her curled up in his bed.

He moved into the room, gently tugging Ducky's heirloom quilt higher over Ziva's chest and around her shoulders.

She roused slightly at his gentle ministrations and Tony felt himself make soft soothing noises, trying to lull her back to sleep.

He gently pushed stray hair from her forehead, feeling her hand grasp his wrist and still his movements.

"Did I sleep through dinner?" she asked, barely awake.

"No, but dinner can wait," he replied.

Ziva felt his hand settle on her cheek and she instinctively turned into the touch, finding herself almost nuzzling his palm. She pulled his wrist with what little strength she could muster and he shifted so he was sitting on the side of the bed at her hip.

Tony smiled as he watched her slowly wake. He knew she needed rest in order to heal and he'd make sure she got as much peace and quiet as she needed. Right now, however it seemed as if she wanted company – and a few minutes of company wouldn't hurt her.

"McGee brought me a present," she said, motioning towards the framed photo on her nightstand.

"Oh, he finished it? That was quick. Bet he didn't get much sleep last night," Tony said, picking up the frame and regarding it with a smile. It was the same photo she had taped to the wall on the ship, the same one Hadar had liberated from her apartment. The same one she thought was lost forever when she had been taken prisoner. Instead of the rips and damage from the broken glass, corners worn with age, and the tearing that the ship's crew had inflicted, the picture looked as beautiful as the day it was first printed.

"He left before I could thank him. Or ask him how he did it," she said, her finger tracing the edge of the frame Tony still held.

"He and Abby have been working with some digital imagine thingie. Its professional-grade repair software, like what they use for paintings in museums," Tony said, sharing what little information he had been able to glean out of the nerd-speak. "I think McGee said he put the original in a safe deposit box for you."

"I will thank him next time I see him," she said.

"You were a cute kid," Tony commented, looking at her mischievous grin and adorable pig-tails.

She rolled her eyes. "Tony-"

"Tali was cute, too, but I can tell you were definitely the beauty in this family," he managed a wink in her direction as he set the photo back on the nightstand.

Ziva sighed, knowing that she should let the conversation die. "Gibbs stopped by," she said, offering a change in subject. "He said I have to work on Monday."

"He's getting' soft in his old age. I only got two days off after the plague. You get a whole week."

"Should I tell him you just called him old?" she asked, grinning.

"Only if you want a new partner," he replied, realizing as soon as the words were out of his mouth that it wasn't the best choice of witty comeback.

"I do not want a new partner," she said firmly.

_Well, the cat's out of the bag, _Tony thought. _Might as well keep going. _"See, that's funny, because I heard a rumor that you thought we wouldn't be able to work together anymore."

Ziva was silent for a few moments, her eyes regarding her photo seriously. She felt Tony shift on the bed in the awkward silence and she stilled herself for what she had to say.

"I thought I _needed _a new partner," she said simply. "But I never _ wanted_ a new partner."

Tony frowned but knew her well enough to know that she wasn't done speaking yet. She was merely gathering her words.

"It has been hard for me to work with you lately," she said, not able to meet his gaze. "Not just because of Michael – before that. I was distracted. I was letting my personal feelings interfere with my job; and it was dangerous. For you and for me.

"I have never been the best at expressing myself," she continued. "But I thought that when I told you I was tired of pretending... I thought you understood that I needed to know your intentions. I needed the flirting, the misdirection, the innuendo to stop if you weren't serious. And it didn't stop."

"I went back to Israel to clear my head," she said simply. "And I needed to have a life outside of work. And Michael was interested in … me," Ziva paused on the last word, second thoughts now running through her mind. "It was nice to have someone take me out to dinner, make me feel wanted... make me feel like a girl," she chuckled.

Tony sighed, wishing he could go back and make the last few months disappear. "Ziva, I -"

Ziva shook her head, forestalling his words. "Please, I had a long time to think about what I would say to you when I was tied in that chair on the ship. I am afraid if I do not say this now, I will not say it ever..." she waited until he nodded in agreement. "The worst part about you and Michael wasn't that you hated each other – it was that I still trusted you more. And he hated that. And what hurt so much was that you were right about him. But you didn't care enough about me to prevent it. If you had just..."

She stopped herself, not knowing what else to say that wouldn't result in unnecessary and pointless blame being cast around.

Tony sensed her plight and spoke softly, hoping he wasn't interrupting. "Problem was that I care about you _too much_, Ziva," he said. "I was more worried about your happiness than anyone's safety. I went there that night, _hoping_ I was wrong. He made you happy – I didn't want to have to arrest him. Because you would have hated me even more for that."

Ziva nodded slowly, knowing his words were true.

"But, I did let you down; I knew what you meant that night in the elevator," he added. "I was just too scared to say anything. Yet again, my little ninja, you were braver than I am."

She chuckled slightly at his admission as well as his term of endearment.

"I'm not scared anymore," he said. "I mean – I am scared. Of screwing this up. Screwing _us _up." Tony sighed. "But risking it is worth it if I know you're safe. Because the fear of losing you is so much worse than the fear of screwing up."

Ziva sat up half way, propping herself on her elbows. "Next time, we should have this talk before you shoot my boyfriend and I quit my job, yes?"

"Definitely," Tony agreed, giving her a small version of the famous DiNozzo grin, one she was happy to receive.

"Go put the pizza away," she said softly, changing the subject without preamble.

Tony arched a brow in question and she rolled her eyes.

"And then come back. I'm tired and would like to go back to sleep."

"I'll just come back tomorrow morning," he said kindly.

"Tony!" she huffed in exasperation. He turned, halfway to the door and watched as she rolled her eyes the way she did when she was slightly embarrassed and trying to alleviate her own discomfort. "I slept really well last night when you were here. I'd like another good night's sleep – which means you have to be here! And we're not sleeping on the couch every night. Go put the pizza away and come back."

Tony processed her words quickly and let a sexy grin slide into place. _Seriously? After all this, I get rewarded by getting to sleep with Ziva? __**Sleep**__ with, not the other kind of sleep with, _he thought, mentally correcting himself. He made short work of shoving the pizza in the fridge before quickly heading back to the bedroom.

He kicked off his shoes, making sure they were out of the way, before peeling off his work shirt and letting his slacks and belt slide down his legs to a puddle on the floor.

When turned to pull his undershirt over his head, he heard Ziva curse in Hebrew under her breath.

He turned and looked at her over his shoulder at her and found her eyes locked on his shoulder.

"Why are you not still wearing your sling?" she asked, regarding the purple angry mottled bruise that centered over his shoulder-blade and covered most of his upper back.

"It would have gotten in the way," he replied simply. "Can't rescue a princess when the knight is all bandaged up, can you?" he teased, sliding under the covers on the bed.

Ziva shifted closer to him, her hand settling on the warm bruise of his shoulder and prodding ever so gently.

In that moment, she realized with certain clarity the fight which he described in his report had been far more violent towards him than he had documented. She realized the pain he must have felt as he half-carried her onto the plane that morning when they were headed home and she was barely able to stand, much less walk. She realized that he would have given everything to make sure she was safe.

She reached out to him, turning his head towards her and she moved cautiously, caressing his lips with her own.

It was short and sweet and filled with the hesitancy that comes with two people who have seen too much death and too much pain.

He pulled away and looked at her with surprise. She fought to hide a light blush under his intense gaze.

"If that's what I get for a bruise, let me show you some of my scars," he teased, receiving a gentle punch to his arm for his remarks.

He lay down on the bed and shifted his good arm out, inviting her into his embrace. Ziva moved slowly as one did the first time they snuggled someone to sleep. She settled her head on his shoulder and felt his arm gently wrap around her, holding her close.

It was the safest she had remembered feeling since she was a young girl.

Ziva turned her head, placing a quick and gentle kiss above his heart, before settling her head back down and closing her eyes, drifting back to sleep.


	19. Chapter 19

It was taking him more effort than usual to push himself out of bed. Not because of the weight of the body currently using him for a pillow – instead because he was enjoying the fact that he had woken up to her snuggled close to his side, her hand resting over his heart.

He'd be a fool to try to leave that embrace any sooner than absolutely necessary.

Tony shifted slightly, tugging his arm gently from under her head. He smiled as he sat up and gently rose from the bed, trying to make as little noise as possible. A week ago he would never have thought himself lucky enough to wake up to Ziva back in the states, never mind in his arms.

He reached into his drawer and pulled out a pair of running shorts and found his old sneakers in the back of his closet- the new pair in his gym bag at Gibbs'. He changed in front of the closet door on auto-pilot, still slightly dazed from sleep and he felt himself visibly jump when a low wolf-whistle broke the quiet morning.

"That was a nice 'good morning'," she said, her voice thick with sleep but still sounding stronger than it had the last several days.

Tony felt his cheeks heat with blush. He hadn't intended on flashing her.

"Hey," he said with a self-conscious chuckle. "Sorry about that."

"I'm not," she said, arching a brow appreciatively.

He pulled his t-shirt over his head. "You're obviously feeling better this morning."

She tipped her head to the side in a half-shrug, half-nod. "Not good enough to join you for your run, I don't think. But much better."

"Next week you can go back to leaving me in the dust. This week you get to be a princess and sit around and rest."

Ziva sat up on her elbows, moving her feet out of his way as he sat on the foot of the bed and laced his shoes. She merely watched his movements and tried to settle her mind to this new reality which was so far from where she was merely four days ago.

Tony felt her gaze heavy on his face and he turned and met her stare with a questioning look.

"Thank you," she said simply.

He frowned. "For what?"

"Everything. And nothing," Ziva shook her head. "Go for your run and go to work," she gently prompted.

"Are you kicking me out so you can have a big party while I'm gone?"

"Yes," she deadpanned.

He chuckled and gently patted her foot through the blanket as he stood and began to stretch. "Go back to sleep. There's pizza in the fridge. I'll come check on you tomorrow, ok?"

Ziva frowned. "Tomorrow?"

"You should try a night by yourself now that you're feeling a little better," Tony replied wisely. "Can't have our fierce ninja getting co-dependent, now can we?"

She smirked at him and watched as he began to bounce lightly on his toes as he made his way to the door.

"Although we'd all understand how hard it is to detox from DiNozzo. I'm the Italian drug no one warns you about..."

He chuckled and ducked just in time as the pillow she had hurled at his head went whizzing by.


	20. Chapter 20

He had called to check on her twice yesterday – once asking if she had eaten lunch, and then another time before bed to make sure she was settled in for the night. She had found herself chuckling when she heard Gibbs' voice in the background telling Tony to get off the phone and get to bed; he had remarked that it was almost like he was a teenager again, making a late-night phone-call to his girlfriend. She had chuckled, letting the light innuendo slide.

She had slept fitfully last night, her first full night without another body in the house. She had woken at the break of dawn and was surprised to find her hand reaching out, as if searching, across to what she now thought of as "Tony's" side of the bed.

How did that happen? After only one night of pure platonic comfort? Her subconscious now had her waking up, reaching out for his contact.

Ziva sighed and rolled out of bed, showered off the lingering confusion that the feelings brought, and had forced her way through the day.

She had cleaned the house, twice.

She had alphabetized the Dvds three times. Once in English. Once in Hebrew. Once in Turkish.

She had managed to fix his washing machine and stop that infernal squeaking sound; god only knew how long that had been going on.

She had taken a nap or two, throughout the day; her body was healing, after all, and she was low on energy.

She had visited every website she could think of – and had found some rather _educational_ new ones – using Tony's laptop.

She had sent a quick message to McGee asking for some suggestions on his preferred online games.

She had spent hours putting ice-packs and cold compresses on her face to encourage the swelling to go down, while keeping her nose buried in whatever book she had been able to find in Tony's house.

She had picked at her nails until she managed to rip one of her cuticles.

She had tried, in vain, to do some situps. The stitches on her back had pulled too fiercely despite her efforts to power-through the pain, she knew that continuing to tempt fate would leave a big blood stain on Tony's carpet and a big open wound on her back.

Ziva David was bored.

The life of a 'princess,' as Tony had referred to it, was definitely not for her.

And now, it would soon be sunset.

Barring a sudden case, the team would be on their way home. McGee had told her that Gibbs had demanded Vance keep them at a light work load while they were 'a man down.'

According to Tim, Tony had grinned and insisted that Ziva counted for two men, not just one. She still wasn't sure if that was entirely a compliment.

She fingered the cell phone, resisting the urge to call him the minute he left the base.

Ziva groaned and gave in to her weakness, hitting the speed dial on her phone and hearing Tony's line ring.

The line picked up and before he even spoke, she heard the purr of his engine over the phone line. "I'm pulling out of the garage now," he said smoothly, not needing to ask who it was, or greet her in a formal way – they were past all of that. He hoped.

"I am going to climb the hall," she groaned.

"Climb a wall," Tony corrected seamlessly, as if they hadn't spent weeks not-talking to each other.

"Whatever."

"Was it really that boring?" he asked, flipping his blinker and pulling into traffic, one hand holding the phone to his ear.

"You have no idea."

"You could have spent all day in bed daydreaming of me," he said, his voice full of teasing tones.

Ziva snickered. "I thought we were trying to prevent nightmares, not encourage them!"

"You wound me," he mocked.

There was a silence as they each took a quick moment to revel in the banter that had slid so easily back into place.

The quick retorts, friendly jabs, and playful ego-strokes were all parts of how they related, how they handled their friendship. It was what made them "Tony and Ziva" and neither knew how much they missed it until it was gone.

"Can you get me out of this house?" she asked, breaking the silence.

"Sure. Where do you want to go?"

Ziva shook her head, even knowing he couldn't see the motion across the phone. "I do not care. Just anywhere that isn't within these four walls."

"How's Tapatini's sound?" he queried.

She frowned at the name of the area's higher end restaurant. It was not for government employees on a budget. It was a romantic and secluded spot where many wedding proposals happened, many high dollar business deals took place, and many elbows were rubbed.

"I think I have the energy for somewhere more casual," she finally replied.

"Sounds even better. I'll be by in ten minutes," Tony said.


	21. Chapter 21

She smiled, watching as he spread the blanket on the grass lawn of the Mall.

Picnicking on the Mall was a Georgetown resident right of passage. Somehow she had managed to live here for years and never once ate her meal in the heart of the nation's treasured monuments and memorials.

"M'Lady," Tony bowed deeply and gestured for her to take a seat on the OSU stadium blanket he had pulled out of the trunk of his car.

"This is certainly more casual than Tapatini's," Ziva said, smiling as she lowered herself to the ground, cautions of her still bruised ribs and her sore back.

Tony reached into the brown bag at his side, pulling out a small container of brown goo, a loaf of bread, and another container of what appeared to be fruit chunks.

"You said casual. A picnic is casual!" While his tone was intended to be joking, there was a small amount of uncertainty in his voice that Ziva was able to hear.

Ziva chuckled, opening the lids on the containers and sighing deeply as she smelled the fresh herbs in the hummus and the yeasty aroma of fresh-baked-bread.

She reached for a piece of pineapple, his favorite, and held it up for him as he turned a worried look towards her.

"This is perfect," she said, popping the fruit into his mouth with a small smile. "Thank you."

He nodded and chewed the moist fruit, trying to smile around the mouthful.

"This looks divine," she said, her voice almost purring with pleasure.

He grinned at how she seemed excited about something for the first time since they had returned home.

Tony ripped off a chunk of bread, scooped some hummus onto it and held it out towards Ziva.

Instead of taking the piece of bread from his hands, she leaned down and bit off a portion.

She smiled as she chewed and Tony thought he recognized a small amount of apprehension in her eyes. Was she afraid he'd reject her?

_Never. _The thought required no analysis in his mind and he took a small sigh of pleasure in that knowledge. He knew without a doubt that even in the most tumultuous portions of their friendship, hw would never truly reject her.

He felt his face crease into a smile and he popped the remaining bite of bread into his mouth, winking at her before turning his head towards the sunset. The orange and red glow reached beautifully across the sky, back lighting the Washington monument.

"I would like to go to the firing range," she said, breaking the silence they had settled into as each gently made their way through the picnic spread.

Tony merely nodded without missing a beat. "Sure. How's tomorrow sound?"

"You will be at work tomorrow."

"Yep." He nodded again. "I'll get a ride in with the boss. You can take my car."

Ziva frowned as she looked at him. "Really?"

"Why not?"

"Tony – its your _**car**__! _You don't even let Gibbs drive your car."

He snickered. "That's because his car is _so _much better than mine. Seriously. His dad did a kick ass job on restoring that baby."

Ziva grinned and rolled her eyes. "If you are certain."

"Yeah. Just try not to drive like... well... like you. Pretend you're McGranny."

"I will try," she merely replied, reaching out and pulling a strawberry from his fingers and popping it into her mouth before he could protest.

"Next time, I'm going after it," he muttered before acquiescing and settling for a blueberry instead.

They settled into silence again, Tony easing down and stretching out on his side, his elbow propping himself up.

"If you're free on Saturday, Abby has appointments for you both at the Mandarin Oriental Spa,." he said when the sky had become almost entirely tinged with orange and dusk had begun to creep across the sky.

She must have looked stunned, prompting him to continue.

"I made an appointment for you to get your hair cut. And a massage. I thought...." he paused, not knowing how to explain himself. _I thought you looked like shit and needed to get patched up. Smoooooth, DiNozzo. _

Ziva tucked her wild hair behind her ear as much as she could. "Thank you," she said, simply.

Tony nodded, relieved he did not have to explain himself.

"Often I think you take better care of me than I do," she said, her voice almost a whisper.

"That's probably true," he said. "But that's because you spend your time taking care of everyone else."

Her brow furrowed as she frowned at him.

"Its true," Tony continued. "Tell me the last time you've worked a case where you haven't personally made sure all the lose ends are tied up."

"That is our job," she said.

"No- our job is to catch the bad guy," he countered. "It is not our job to make sure the four-year old who just lost both her parents has a friend until social services arrives. It is not our job to buy groceries for the elderly veteran who's government caregiver was murdered," Tony paused a second and reached up, touching her chin with his fingers and guiding her to look at him. "Those are admirable things, Ziva. You do those things because of who you are, not because its your job."

It wasn't in Ziva's nature to be silent when offered compliments. It wasn't a situation she knew how to handle.

So she did what she knew how to do and what had kept her safe and sane during that week on the ship- she kept her mind busy, effectively switching conversation topics with Tony.

"I owe you an apology," she said, not pulling away from his touch.

Tony frowned. "Didn't we do that last night?"

She shook her head. "Not all of it."

"Oh."

"What I said last night was true: It was becoming impossible to work with you."

Tony finally pulled his hand away and shifted, feigning his casual pose.

"But that is not what I want to apologize for. I should not have taken my anger out on you," she said simply. "I was mad at you, yes. But had Michael been honest, had my father been honest, I would not have had a need to be mad at you."

"Its fine," Tony said, offering her forgiveness where he could.

"It is not fine," Ziva shook her head, "I should have known something was going on. And, honestly Tony, I did. I had a gut feeling – like you and Gibbs have. But I wanted so badly to be wrong. I wanted it to be more than just another assignment for Michael. I wanted it to be real."

He chuckled halfheartedly. "It was real, Ziva. There's no way that it couldn't have been real." He continued when he realized she was frowning at him. "There's no way anyone could get that close to you, to be that intimate with you, and not love you."

Ziva looked down and blinked, refusing to allow any tears to well in her eyes. "In Mossad, we are taught to not let feelings interfere. I'm sure he was able to separate the two."

"All the training in the world couldn't have stopped it. You're damned easy to fall for," he said simply.

Tony's words, so clear and honest, made her bring her head up and meet his gaze.

"As are you."

He shrugged and rolled over onto his back, regarding the dusky sky and the night's first stars with teasing eyes. "I'm tellin ya- its the DiNozzo charm. More addictive than chocolate."

She found herself grinning. Only Tony could make her go from serious to laughing in a few moments. Only Tony could take her heart-felt apology and accept it without dwelling on it. Only Tony could make her feel this whole.

She grabbed a piece of pineapple from the bowl and reached over, sweetly offering it out to him.

He wrapped his lips around the fruit and sucked, catching her off guard and pulling the fruit and her fingers into his mouth. He gently caressed the tips of her fingers with his tongue.

It was sensual and ticklish all at the same time and Ziva felt herself torn between laughing and blushing.

He made the decision much easier when he lobbed a blueberry at her, hitting her square in the nose.

The round blue fruit bounced off her face and onto the grass, forgotten.

"Tony!" She gritted his name through her teeth, trying not to laugh. Ziva pushed the bowl out of the way and reached for him in a playful attack.

They wrestled in what was, possibly, the gentlest wrestling match ever, both conscious of her still battered body. He resorted to tickling her sides with deft fingers, making her dissolve into a very uncharacteristic pile of almost-giggling girl.

The tussle was short, but allowed them both the chance to touch and be touched in a safe way. They were redefining their boundaries and learning the rules now that the game had changed yet again. He watched as she became winded and he slowed his tickles and shifted so she gently slid sideways to the blanket. She rested her head on his chest, her body perpendicular to his.

They both regarded the evening sky.

Ziva folded her hands on her chest and tried to imagine a better way to end her day.

He reached over and covered her hand with his own and was shocked when she shifted, lacing their fingers together.

"Can we do this every night?" His voice was so quiet, she almost didn't hear the question.

Almost.

"No," she replied, turning her head to look at him. "But I wish we could."

"How about once a week?" he counter-offered.

Ziva nodded, squeezing his fingers. "Once a week. Or until you get distracted for some blonde babe," she teased.

"Not goona happen," he said.

"Oh?"

"I like brunettes, first of all," Tony clarified. "Secondly, there's this woman at work who I've got a thing for. She's had it rough lately- really bad ex boyfriend. Daddy issues. You name it. But I think she'll be back on the dating scene in a few weeks."

"But she will not interfere with our weekly picnics?" Ziva asked, deciding to play along with his rather cute inferences.

"She'll understand," he said simply. "I mean, you really can't stop a guy from hanging out with his best friend, can you?"


End file.
